My Voice

Learning to be comfortable, really comfortable in my own skin is an on going process.

The more I think I have something totally figured out, the web I have weaved becomes very tangled. It looked so simple at first, but I forget the intricate layers it took to make. I think the same thing can be said about my voice. I am learning to stretch... speak up. It's so easy when I

am angry or excited. Nothing can stop thunderous, foot stomping, gut rolling laughter.

That is so easy. When I need to really speak up than this little mouse voice comes out. Especially.....

when someone with an authoritarian figure tone, that pushes their weight around. A slight stutter or lisp tumbles out from where? How did that just happen, I was fine two minutes ago. I am just learning I can take a moment, collect my thoughts, still have my dignity.

I am realizing I have kept this giant rule book in my head, always made a joke about it. Hmmm.

It is always in my car I have my great eye openers. Today another hit me hard.

The would and should cousins, again..... who invited them back? My mind can get so

black and white when the absolute team takes over. Black and white can step in so quickly

when I am unsure of my footing. The rule book that once again I insist I am only kidding about

from my past, is so clearly center stage and in need of attention. My greatest teachers I would have to say are those authoritarian figure voices. A throw back from Catholic School Days.

The finger pointing hell and damnation is coming out of my pores and purging through

those I now come in contact with. That voice. Now allowing me the opportunity to

stand in the sunshine that was always mine. The voice so pure and true, mine too.

They were always mine, I just needed a reminder. I have needed a lot of reminders.

I really forgot. A lot of those voices have shaken my foundation. I did not realize they were here to teach me. To wake me up and shake the shame and doubt off. The tears were like a rain storm. They cleaned away the years of misunderstandings and cloudiness. This voice I have been given. I laugh so freely and joyously with. I have sobbed uncontrollable tears. I sing my favorite songs loud, with much passion and zest ..... I feel for the person who has to be in ear shot. This voice that professes my love so true to those I hold dear. The same voice that angers quickly.... regrets that anger.

My voice, my words, that can now say no. May still feel bad for that no, but I am loving myself enough to say it. I am learning my words, my heart, I have a right to say how I feel.

I no longer need to hide in the shadows. Everyone has thoughts, feelings.

There is more than enough room for all of us. Overflowing, brimming. It was just a silly childhood myth. We somehow needed to hold on tight. Someone might take what we had.

I used to believe that in the house I grew up in as a child. Now I believe there is so much... and

the playground is just packed with kids waiting to play. Especially this kid.

Wanting to run and kick the ball. Tell secrets and fly kites. Finger paint and dance.

Eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and ride bikes. I want to play. I want to use my voice. The same voice that was too shy to use in my youth. I want to scream from the roof tops,

chase the ice cream truck down the street, yelling stop as loud as I can.